


Eddie Gets Grounded, Richie Sneaks Over, and Now Bill & Stan Owe Mike $5

by onlykatelyn



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 22:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlykatelyn/pseuds/onlykatelyn
Summary: When Eddie gets grounded and has to skip out on a sleepover with the rest of the Losers, the last person he expects to knock on his window is Richie Tozier.





	Eddie Gets Grounded, Richie Sneaks Over, and Now Bill & Stan Owe Mike $5

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short one shot I posted on tumblr. I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think! ❤️

Eddie collapses on his twin bed, utterly exhausted and emotionally drained. He hadn’t meant to piss off his mother, but it had inevitably occurred, and it was how he ended up here.

He was supposed to be at Mike’s tonight with the rest of the gang watching a movie on the projector. They were having a sleep over, and of course he’d have to miss it. He shoots them a quick text to let them know he was trapped in his bedroom for the rest of the evening.

He’d almost had his mother convinced to let him go, that he was just clearing his throat; his cough wasn’t the result of a deadly asthma flare-up. What killed him was the fact that he bit his lip, trying to convince himself to remain quiet while she berated him for being friends with the losers in the first place.

He’d chewed it until the sharp taste of iron filled his mouth, fresh on his tongue. When she saw the small stream of crimson trickling from his lower lip, she FREAKED. And, now, after an assortment of insults and references to his father, he’d been sentenced to a grounding behind a closed bedroom door.

He slams his head against his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. Trying to quell the slight pang of jealousy tugging at his gut. The rest of his friends were probably laughing and relaxing playfully in Mike’s barn. Or maybe they were outside, watching the stars peak through the sunset. Whatever it was, it was a fuckton better than being here.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, extremely disappointed in himself. Why did he have to go and bite his stupid lip? Why couldn’t he just swallow his anger like a normal fucking person?

He sighs, accepting his fate. And as he settles onto his pillow, bunkering down for a long weekend, there’s a startling rap on his window.

Bang bang bang bang! He jumps, and his first instinct is to watch the door for his mother’s intrusion. He rises, unsure of what the fuck to think but migrating to the window. He fumbles with the latch, stomach swirling with anticipation, when he hears a voice from the other side: “Open the fucking window and let me in, asshole! The mosquitoes are eating me alive!”

Richie.

He lets out a brief sigh of relief, but it does nothing to quell the lurching in his stomach or the hammering of his heart against his ribs. Why the fuck was Richie here? And not at mike’s with the other losers?

He slips open the window, sliding it up forcefully as Richie squeezes his way through. He’s lucky he’s so skinny, Eddie thinks, as he worms through the opening and lands on the floor, pausing briefly to adjust his glasses. Eddie shoots another glance at the door, and thankfully it seems his mother has somehow gone oblivious to all of Richie’s obnoxiously loud banging. He shuts the window before turning to his best friend, who’s already made himself comfortable on the bed.

“Richie!” Eddie whispers as loudly as possible, but he’s already flipping through a comic book. 

“Yeah?” He asks absent-mindedly while turning a page.

“Do you mind telling me what the fuck you’re doing here?”

“I’m sleeping over. We were supposed to have a sleepover, remember?”

“Yeah! At mike’s. With everyone else!”

Richie flips another page. “Yes, genius, but you couldn’t go there. And it’s not a sleepover without my favorite pasta.”

“Without your what?” Realization dawns on him. “oh, for fuck’s sake, Richie!” He pinches the bridge of his nose again. “You have to go, before my mom finds you. She’ll fucking kill us both.”

He closes the comic book, lacing his hands behind his head nonchalantly. “That’s not what she said when I was in her bed last-“

“Shut up, Richie!” Eddie cries, pulse still thudding at the prospect of being caught. He sighs at the puppy dog eyes peering from beneath his glasses.

“You’re being too loud, trash mouth. She’ll hear you.”

He smiles. “But the real question is, did you hear us last night-“

Eddie throws a spare sock lying on the floor in his direction. Richie giggles lightly.

“Well? Are you going to let me stay?” He pouts, poking out his bottom lip dramatically.

Eddie sighs again. “I fucking guess. As long as you promise to be quiet.”

Richie beams, patting the bed beside him. Eddie lets out a relaxed chuckle before giving in.

They’re close, as Eddie’s twin mattress is sandwiched against the wall and hardly holds the two of them. He rests his head against the wall, allowing his eyes to shut as Richie resumes flipping through the comic book.

There’s something comforting about the silence between them. Richie didn’t have to come here, scaring the shit out of Eddie and making him unnecessarily paranoid, but he did. And to Eddie, it meant the world.

“You wanna talk about it?” Richie finally broke the quiet, still flipping pages.

Eddie steals a glance in his direction before letting out a long, drawn out breath. “She wouldn’t let me go to Mike’s. Something about my asthma being too out of control. And then she called me names and told me I’m just like my father. You know, always leaving...”

Richie nods. “Yeah, and it’s bullshit. Just like it was last time, and the time before that.”

Something in Eddie’s stomach loosens; a knot that he didn’t know had been tightening all evening. Richie had a way of making him feel calm; so much of his life was ridden by fear and anxiety, but with Richie... none of it mattered. It was what made him so amazing, the way a simple sentence could flip Eddie’s world. The way, despite his obtrusive joking and crude comments, he’s here, without being asked, simply because he’s Richie.

It’s one of the many reasons Eddie is in love with him- oh, fuck. No thoughts like that, Eddie. Not when Richie’s here, in your room, on your... oh, fuck... he swallows, and it’s a lump in his throat. His palate’s gone dry, and he clumsily reaches for the glass of water on his nightstand.

“Hey- you okay?” Richie asks, peering above the book at him as he chugs.

Eddie swallows hard, shaking his head as the water hits his stomach in one painful ball. “Yeah, I’m- fine. Fine.”

Richie cocks his head, eyes scanning the details of Eddie’s face. “What happened to your lip?”

Eddie’s gaze finds the ceiling. “Nothing. It’s fucking stupid.”

“I bet it’s nooooooot!” Richie grabs his arm and pulls him back onto the bed. The comic has been thrown to the side, disregarded for the more important matter of the moment.

Eddie sits obediently. His arm is tingling where Richie touched him. He hates himself for thinking that. He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Richie.

They’re just so- so fucking close. Richie’s gaze is fixed on his lips, and Eddie’s staring unwavering at Richie.

“You bit it.” Richie finally speaks softly, and Eddie starts at the sudden accuracy of his statement. His brown eyes grow wide as Richie continues: “you were nervous, and you chewed it.”

“How did you know that?” He whispers in awe.

Richie’s suddenly fidgeting nervously. It’s very uncharacteristic, and Eddie is hooked on figuring out what the fuck is going on.

“You- you do it sometimes. When you’re having a bad dream, or when you’re overwhelmed. Sometimes it’s just when you’re having a bad day.”

This is the part where Eddie should laugh, crack a joke, do anything to persuade his thoughts from where they’re heading. Because Richie pays attention to him, and fucking closely, and he’s pretty sure friends don’t do that, but he can’t be one hundred percent sure because-

“I’m sorry.” Richie says, gripping the comic book with shaking hands and returning his eyes to the paper.

“Richie,” Eddie whispers, and suddenly he’s brave. He’s brave because Richie came all the way the fuck over here and climbed through his window and just admitted to noticing something so subtle he hadn’t even seen it himself. He didn’t know he could be this brave, and his heart swells when Richie’s eyes peer up from beneath his glasses.

“You like me,” Eddie states with a smile, and Richie’s face is suddenly bright red.

“I, uh, of course I like you, Eds, you’re my best friend, and-“ he’s struggling, stumbling over his words like the oaf that he is. Eddie’s confidence blossoms.

Before he can stop himself, Eddie lurches forward and presses a soft kiss to the crimson of his cheek. It’s a bit awkward, and there’s a brief moment of hesitation as he pulls back and watches Richie’s eyes grow wide. It only lasts a second, though- suddenly, Richie’s face is zooming forward and within a fraction of a moment their lips are pressed against each other.

Eddie feels himself relax, sighing audibly into their kiss. Richie is all fire and passion, and soon enough his hands are gripping the sides of Eddie’s head and pulling him closer. Eddie can’t think- he can only feel, and it’s a parade of fireworks that spark the very essence of his being. Nothing else matters- not his mom, not his illness, not even the stinging in his lower lip as it glides against’s Richie’s. Eddie wraps his arms around him- an embrace that is far unlike any they’ve shared before.

Richie’s desperation is evident in the way his hands grip Eddie. They slide down the small of his back, latching onto the peak of his hips. This kiss is infinite- Eddie’s long forgotten about the prospect of his mother intruding- and a small moan escapes from his throat.

Richie pulls back, eyeing him ravenously and Eddie gulps at the involuntary noise before Richie is crashing into him again. He wants him- Eddie fucking wants him- and the fact that his yearning is reciprocated is almost too much to handle. His heart is racing, pulse hammering violently as it travels to his lungs. Suddenly- he can’t breathe- he can’t fucking breathe. He separates, heaving, wheezing as he tries to catch his breath.

It’s not happening- and it suddenly dawns on him that Richie’s given him a fucking asthma attack so he reaches to the nightstand for his inhaler.

A few puffs in and he’s grounded enough to notice that Richie’s stifling a laugh. His cheeks are rosy, taut against a smile that’s bordered by swollen lips.

“What?” He asks, still trying exasperatedly to regulate his respiration.

“I took your breath away, Ed’s. I fucking stole your breath!”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Richie.”

“You still love me though, right?”

Eddie’s lips quirk at the edges. “Yes, you twat.”

Richie grins, and Eddie can tell by the mishevious glint in his gaze that the British accent is coming. “Good. Because I’ve fancied you for quite some time, Eddie Spaghetti. It’s nice to know you feel the same, mate!”

Eddie laughs. He usually hates the British guy, but the words are enough to turn him inside out.

“Come here, Trashmouth,” he says with a smile and pulls him in for another kiss.

***

“I believe you both owe me five dollars?” Mike opens up each hand, and both Stan and Bill reluctantly place their money in each palm.

“I’m just glad they finally did the goddamn deed. The tension was killing me,” Bev adds, taking a drag from her cigarette.

“I think it’s sweet. They make a cute pair, don’t you think?” Ben adds, practically with heart eyes.

The rest of the losers are crowded outside Eddie’s window, having watched the scene curiously. They knew as soon as Richie had bailed exactly where he was headed, and Mike said it was about time his suspicions were confirmed.

“Come on guys, let them have some privacy,” Bev concludes, flicking her cigarette into the road.

“Yeah, I really don’t want to know what happens next.” Stan adds sarcastically, and Mike laughs.

“Come on guys, l-let’s get back,” Bill suggests, and they head out.

On the other side of the window, Eddie has found a comfortable spot against Richie’s shoulder.

All is well.


End file.
